Sweet, blissful death; this was all she wanted. She wanted to experience this feeling more than anything in the world but she knew in her deadened heart that this would not come, not if Saleem had anything to say about it. She would stay here and not know anything but pain; that is until she talked. They knew and she knew that even the strongest and highest trained of men break at some point. She had a breaking point and soon she would reach it. These men would make sure of it.
The door to her cell creaked open to reveal the monster running this "show" of sorts. Ziva lifted her head up and saw him. She was weak and angry at the same time. For torture victims, this could be a…lethal combination of emotions. She watched as he walked towards her, his body slowly becoming illuminated by the early morning sun. Saleem analyzed her battered and abraded body. She looked so meek and almost frail. She still dangled in the very same spot Yassin had left her in that previous night.
"Good morning." He chimed with a thick Arab accent.
"Go to Hell!" She cursed at the top of her voice.
"Now, Agent David, I don't think that's very nice now." He said in a somewhat mocking manner.
Ziva then began to thrash around in her ropes erratically and kicked Saleem. He faltered backwards slightly but caught himself and laughed. He not only found her attempts meager, but he knew his retort would be much more painful and affective.
He pulled a knife from its holster and began toying with it in his fingers as he laughed at her. He pushed the blade against her arm and smiled sinisterly to her. She began to mentally beg for him to slice her arm and let her bleed out. She used to wonder when her death would come. Now, she couldn't wait for it.
"You think you're in Hell now. You haven't seen anything yet." He derided to her.
She narrowed her eyes at him and spat at him dryly. She watched as he wiped what little saliva hit his face away. He looked at her and back handed her hard. Once again, her head whipped back as a subsequent reaction to the slap.
"I am actually disappointed in you, Ziva. I thought you knew better." He said, allowing the blade to slide down slowly. "I guess I thought wrong."
When he removed the blade from her olive-tan skin he examined it closely, watching as slowly each crimson drop of blood caused the sand beneath her to become stained. He then began to pace around the cell, not only to be an aide to his thinking but to intimidate his hostage.
"You know, someday you will learn." He said, waving the blood-christened knife towards her. "You do not fuck with me, got it?"
She didn't say anything. She remained absolutely silent. For reasons unknown to Ziva, he became absolutely outraged by her silence. He walked up to her and with one swing he sliced through the ropes as if it were melted butter. She fell to the ground and landed with a thud. She then felt Saleem grab her by the back of her hair and he lifted her up.
"I said, got it?" He repeated, this time yelling in her face.
Yet again she did not break. In fact she allowed herself to take the most brutal of beatings she had received from Saleem. When he left her there, sixty percent of her body had become broken, bruised, bloody, or otherwise. She was a goner and she knew it. There was no way she was walking out of this place and she understood this fully. She had given up any and all hope of being rescued a long time ago. She lost everything, including hope.
She lay on the ground with nothing on but the remnants of ropes which cling to her wrist. Otherwise, she was fully naked, every wound exposed to the world and no one could see them. She tried getting up but it was of no use. She forfeited all of the littlest scraps of hope she had and closed her eyes. She lay there, allowing the sun to engulf every inch of her flesh.
Psychological torture; it was all he could think of at that moment. He knew several tortures techniques and some of those things had not even gotten to be used yet. He knew he'd use them eventually, if it came to that. She was persistent and strong, he gave her that but she should have known better. Then, maybe things would have turned out different. Maybe things could still change but the likelihood was quite low.
Saleem stood outside, more frustrated than anything. He had no idea what to do next. He could keep beating her but what good would that do. She still wouldn't talk. He then got an idea. This idea was not only spur of the moment but it was, to him, a stroke of sheer genius.
He busted through the door and saw the woman sprawled out across the floor. She grew scared when she saw him and began to feebly crawl away from him. This did not help for Saleem caught a hold of her by her blood and dirt matted hair. Dragging her from the room by her hair was an easy task nowadays. She wasn't fighting as much as she used to and this intrigued Saleem. Slowly but surely these men were cracking her resolve. Soon, she would reach her breaking point.
When he got her outside even more sweltering heat engulfed her naked body. She could feel the sand and rocks beneath her body as she moved through the desert's filth-ridden dirt. When she stopped she became encircled by all of Saleem's men. There must have been thirty of them hovering around her like a pack of wolves and she was their meat.
Of course, she knew this was coming. There were thirty men and just one meager woman which they could use to satisfy their own sick needs. She curled up in to a ball, shielding most of her body from their prying eyes. Just then Saleem kicked Ziva in the back, causing her arms to let go of her legs as she writhed in sheer pain. They hungrily studied her body and experienced that same ecstatic and enthralled feeling. She looked up at them, seeing their faces for the first time. Some of them looked familiar yet most were men she had no idea of their identities. She grew fearful for her life.
It seemed that the men were getting closer and closer to her but she could not know for sure. She had grown so paranoid she had no idea what was true and what was false. Whatever the case may be she knew she wasn't going to get out of here alive. She attempted to curl back up into a ball but Saleem stopped her with a firm kick to the ribs. Yet again she was in pain. Saleem then proceeded to allow Rafiq to have his turn.
In front of all of those men, Rafiq yanked down his pants and raped Ziva. They all stood and watched in wonder as Ziva attempted to fight the strong man off to no avail. She closed her eyes and listened to their voices shouting out various obscenities. Soon, this allowed her to somehow block out what was happening to her. She could feel him inside her yet she could not. She could feel Saleem's kicks yet she could not. It was as if she had been somewhere else.
This was nowhere near the end. It felt like every man had had his turn with her. It felt like every man at that camp at touched her in the worst of ways. Violated could not even begin to describe how she felt. There Ziva was, a woman so used to having all the control, having all of the control taken out of her hands and put into the sadistic terrorists which raped her over and over again. That night Saleem did not return her to her cell. In fact he took her frame over to the hangman-esque poles and strung her up there. Her naked and battered frame remained bare and she dangled lifelessly from up there. She was so tired. She was so cold. She could feel herself slowly start to slip away, into oblivion.
The next morning when she awoke, Ziva did not see four walls of a terrorist cell. In fact, she saw dirt flying around and the camp's buildings. She grew scared and started breathing heavily. Slowly as the dawn progressed she saw men emerged from their tents and camp buildings. She then knew what was coming next.
She was naked and these men were there to break her and they wouldn't even have to lift a finger. She was hanged by her wrists and she had no way of escaping their gaze. Her body had now become their peepshow. She began breathing even more heavily, the men watching as her chest moved with each erratic breath. She squeezed her eyes shut and avoided their faces as they stared. Just then Saleem came up to her and back handed her.
"You will look at them!" He commanded. "You will look at them until you talk!"
He had spoken so loud that it hurt Ziva's ear. She began to cry as she looked at all of their faces. She looked all the way down and sobbed when she saw their erections. He head hanged down in sheer defeat, her sobs heard by all of them. Her hair fell down, concealing her face from the men and the world.
Saleem, however, had other plans entirely for the Israeli agent. He came up from behind her and grabbed onto the back of her head, hoisting it up. Once again she saw their faces and then something happened that she was definitely not prepared for. A man stood up from his chair and rushed over to Ziva. He yanked her legs apart and proceeded to rape her once again. She cringed against the feel of his hand within her and could only cry for help that she knew would never come.
When he finished he went back to his tent and Ziva never saw him the rest of the day. Ziva began to thrash around within the restraints yet no amount of fighting it will help. She realized the only chance she had, was talking. She had to talk in order to escape. This shithole was one place she knew in her heart of hearts she would never get out of. She had grown to realize this a long time ago.
The Somali terrorist camp would slowly and gradually become her tomb. She stopped thrashing and allowed herself to suspend from the restraints which kept her bound. Saleem walked around her to where he was in front of her. He smiled at the sight of her admitting defeat. He balled his right hand into a fist and punched her hard in the face. Her head whipped back and her hair draped over her bruised face.
"Now, are you ready to play nice for my men?" He asked.
Despite her better judgment telling her not to do this, she spit in his face. He could only laugh at her rebellious act. He wiped away the saliva off of his face and took hold of a cluster of her hair.
"You still haven't learned have you?" He asked through gritted teeth.
She then began thrashing around in response, trying to somehow get out of his grasp. Yet, she could not escape. She could never escape. She never understood why she still tried to get out of this. It had been three long, excruciating, and relentless months since she was forcibly brought into the camp and now she wished she would have never taken this mission in the first place. She wished she would have stayed in the US with Tony, Gibbs, McGee, all of them. She should have never stayed in Israel.
When Ziva David awoke she could not believe her eyes. She saw a plate with what appeared to be rice and beans on it. She blinked her eyes as if in some form of disbelief. She crawled from the corner of the room towards the plate beside the door. When she reached it she picked up the plastic fork and started eating. She could not even begin to describe how good it felt to be eating again. She only ate a small amount, fearing they would not feed her again soon.
The scraps of food seemed to be disgusting leftovers from previous meals the terrorists shared but did Ziva care? No. Food was food and she was definitely in no position to be particular. She put aside the remnants of food and sat back against the nearest wall. She let a few tears trickle down her cheeks as she thought about her former co-workers. She missed them so much. She especially missed Tony.
She was snapped out of her reverie when the door flew open, revealing Saleem Ulman. She shut her eyes tightly, willing him to go away. Despite all of her effort Saleem did not go away. In fact he grabbed hold of her arm and dragged her into a large room.
This room she had never seen before and she feared what was going to happen within its confines. She saw the men standing and sitting in the room and grew fearful. She instantly started fighting his grasp, making her way towards the door. Still she could not get away from him.
"Please, don't!" She begged loudly. "NO!"
She screamed loudly in fear as she fought him. Yassin and Khamud came towards them and grabbed the fighting Israeli's frame. She wriggled and writhed to no avail. There was no escaping this. They threw her body down onto the ground in the middle of the room. Suddenly, out of nowhere, Saleem pulled out an electric shock baton.
This long black device's two silver colored points were pressed into Ziva's bare leg, causing Ziva to receive an electric shock. The volts of electricity made Ziva convulse, her muscles becoming, in a sense, paralyzed. The excruciating pain she felt couldn't even surpass what she was about to face.
She soon felt nothing, her whole body growing numb. The device sure had done its job. She watched unwillingly as they shackled her wrists and ankles, restraining her tightly. She could not have been sure about what they would do to her but she had a few ideas and none of them were good. She lay there as the men drew closer. Tears stung her eyes and she wanted it all to end. She began to sob as one man by the name of Abbud approached.
"Please…don't do this." She cried.
Her voice was filled with so much pain but knowing these deranged and sadistic assholes they would not show any form of mercy. One after another, thirty men took their turns with her. She cried the whole time. She couldn't think of a time she cried so much in her entire life. But this was not her life. Sadly, this was her untimely death.
Relentless sobs busted from the Israeli's small frame as the men left her alone in the room to rot. She screamed loudly in the feeble hopes that someone somehow would hear and come to her rescue. But, she knew that if by some miracle that were to happen they would not make it. These men Saleem had guarding the camp had anti-tank and anti-aircraft weapons and death would be instantaneous. Anyone would be a fool to try to save her. She shut her eyes tightly and allowed herself to just cry.
For days they had left her there with absolutely no contact. This scared her. She feared the worst. She feared that they were scheming, coming up with something so terrible that she might just die this time. Then again, she did not mind if she died. She minded how she would die. She didn't want any more pain. She wanted at least one part of this hell-like experience to be painless.
She pulled her right arm towards her body but was crestfallen when she realized that she couldn't even move it a foot. The disconsolate Israeli allowed her body to go limp in defeat. She was thirsty; her mouth feeling drier than the sand beneath her. She hadn't had anything to drink in ages and she wished, prayed that they would bring her something to drink. Meanwhile, Saleem was on the other side of the cell door listening to her yells.
"HEY!" She screamed hoarsely. "Water!"
She continued to yell yet got no response.
"I need some water!" She shouted.
It had been about three and a half days since she had last drank anything and anyone knows that this can be quite deadly, especially since she is in the middle east. She was surprised when Qasim came in and brought a large bottle of water. Her eyes lit up at this. She wanted it so bad that she began to thrash around in her restraints. Qasim seemed to enjoy watching the young woman struggle. He pulled out a shiny silver key and unlocked one of the restraints before he handed her the water.
Normally, Ziva would have done her best to fight Qasim and get the key but right then, to her that did not matter. The only thing that mattered was that water. She practically tore off the lid and began to down the water. She drank half before she stopped herself to breath.
"Thank you." She whispered.
She had no idea why she thanked the terrorist but it wasn't as if she could take back what she had said. Suddenly with one swift motion Qasim put her wrist back in the restraint. Qasim snatched up the water and began drinking from it. Ziva's eyes went wide. She was utterly appalled by the man's actions. She thought the water was hers.
He polished off the bottle and threw the empty remains across the room before he left. He listened as Ziva began to flay around like crazy in the attempts to break her chains. Sadly, she realized that this act would become impossible. She could feel the shackles cut into her wrists and she saw blood seeping from invisible wounds which lay beneath the shackles. She rested her arms a bit and started to struggle with her ankles. With a loud scream she was able to pull the bottom of her feet from the desert ground. She miraculously broke the chains, freeing her feet.
She began to feel her chest heave rapidly with each breath she took. She attempted to turn around, her arm's chains becoming tangled. She was able to get her feet stable on the ground. She hissed as pain radiated through her ankles. She saw blood pooled from deep gashes on her ankles. She didn't care though. She knew that somehow she would be able to escape. Blood began to stain the sand beneath her as she pulled her wrists towards herself as hard as she could. The stubborn woman continued to fight through it despite how aimless her attempts may be.
She suddenly felt her wrist's bone crack. It was official. She now had a fractured wrist. She bit onto her bottom lip hard as began engulfed her. She took a few deep breaths and screamed as she used her broken wrist to pull the chains loose. She stopped after a while and dropped to her knees. The pain was too much. She had so many injuries that it may have been easier to count all of the places on her body that were non-afflicted. She rested her head against the ground below her and sobbed. That was all she could do was sob.
She looked down at her wrist and saw a part of the bone poking out into the skin. She couldn't even move it without it hurting and to do what she just did with a broken wrist was seemingly impossible. She knew that she might have caused further damaged by doing what she did but she didn't care. She had to get out. No matter what, she had to get out. She stood up and with one hard pull she broke the part where the chains were connected to the floor. She fell back and hit the ground hard.
In an almost victorious manner she stood up and began pounding against the walls. She then cried out in sheer agony as her broken wrist began to hurt worse. She took hold of it with her other hand and hunched over. She hurt worse than she had before and she wished that Saleem would let Hafiz set her wrist and that he would do it without making it any worse.
Her ribs still hurt from the beatings she had received prior to her time in this room. She put her hand on her side and hissed in pain. She hadn't noticed it before but her ribs seemed to be cracked. She took a deep breath and they started to hurt worse than before. She knew that if one of these men didn't kill her than her injuries just might.